Fiction
by juviass
Summary: Their story was a piece of fiction. A dream that could never be attained.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Persona 3. I think Atlus does, but I'm not actually so sure.**

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><p>It was the day of her funeral, and Shinjiro decided to visit her room once more. He wasn't going to go to the funeral anyways, so why not?<p>

When Shinjiro stepped into the room, the overwhelming scent of her being blasted him in the face. He closed the door softly behind him, leaving him and his thoughts alone. Her room was far from bare, but to Shinjiro, if she wasn't there, it may as well be empty. The bed creaked as he sat on it, wrinkling the soft, pink bedsheets.

Mitsuru had decided to leave the room alone until they all had to move out of the dorm, so all of her things were still in the same place as she left them the morning before she died. With the exception, of course, of the school uniform she wore. One of the girls had taken the clothes off for her, and it was folded neatly on the simple wooden desk.

Shinjiro surveyed his surroundings. There was a half used pack of bobby pins sitting beside her clothes, and Shinjiro could picture her standing there, bobby pins hanging from her mouth as she looked into the mirror and slipped them into her hair, in the form of XXII.

For the last time that morning.

He pulled his black beanie down a little lower, wrapped his thick, maroon jacket around his body a little tighter, and forced himself not to think about her. Forget about her cheery smile, her light perfume, her charismatic feel, the softness of her lips, the well shaped curves of her body, the-

_"No, she's gone." _Shinjiro told himself. _"She sacrificed herself to keep all of us safe from Nyx, safe from Erebus. She's not here."_

But she kept popping into his head, even as he got up to leave the room. Just as he reached for the doorknob, something glinted in the corner of his eye. He turned and found a simple, leather watch half hidden in the shade. He had wondered why she wasn't wearing his watch that morning. Curiosity got the most of him, and he sauntered over to the corner of the room.

Under the watch, there was a small piece of paper, and under that, there was a box. He took all three items with him and sat back on her bed. He turned the watch over in his hand, and found her small writing on the strap of the watch.

_Shinjiro-sempai's present to me._

Next, the note.

_Dear Shinjiro-sempai,_

_I figured you'd find this note sooner or later. I guess you took my hint of not wearing your watch, which is the most priceless thing I own, on Graduation Day._

_And I guess that you've probably figured out now that I knew I was going to die. But I didn't leave with regrets. I was happy._

_Even though we didn't spend much time together, I still treasured the time when we were. The late night walks, the trips to Wakatsu, and that night in your room._

_So don't mourn for me, okay? Tell everyone else that too._

_I love you so much, sempai._

Shinjiro clutched the paper in his hand, crumpling it and almost ripping it with his strength. He could feel tears work his way into his eyes, but he refused to cry. If even he broke down, then how was everyone else supposed to cope with her death?

Slowly, he lifted the cover of the third item, the box. Inside, he found a bunch of little things, each with either her writing on it, or a note attached to it. He saw Miki's old rabbit doll, and a note that said: _Akihiko-sempai's present._

An empty pig key holder, with a note that said: _Junpei's present._

A charred screw, with tape wrapped around the end, and writing that said: _Aigis' present._

A silver key, with writing along the side of the key:_ Ken-kun's present.  
><em>

A pair of headphones, with writing on the left side: _Fuuka's present._

An old, tattered collar, with writing scrawled on the inside:_ Koromaru's present._

A small cell phone strap, and a note taped to it: _Yukari's present._

A black key with a note wrapped around it: _Mitsuru-sempai's present._

And then a ball of scrunched up paper in the corner of the box. Shinjiro carefully flattened the paper out, and found a bunch of scribbled out writing on it.

_Hey, Shinjiro-sempai,_

That was crossed out numerous times.

_How are you doing, sempai?_

Scribbled out with such intensity that the paper was ripped.

_I miss you, sempai._

That was barely legible, as it was covered in the black of pencil led.

He flipped the page over, and found the same 3 words repeated so many times, it blanketed the entire sheet.

_I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you._

It was then that Shinjiro realized that the paper was crinkled not only because it was squished into a ball, but also because numerous tear stains that dotted the paper.

Shinjiro's throat constricted as he pushed tears back yet again. All his regrets regarding her flooded back into his head.

Why didn't he spend more time with her?

Why did he let himself get shot?

Why did he stop himself that night in his room, keeping himself from taking all of her into his being?

Why did he stop even when he saw the want, the lust, the love, in her eyes?

_Why? Why?_ _Why?_

He punched the headrest of the bed so hard his fist throbbed, but the pain was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

Happy endings? What bullshit. He was put into a coma soon after they began to go out, she had died minutes after he fled from the hospital and rushed to her side at the rooftop.

The story he wrote in his head, the one where she lived, the one where they got married, the one where they were walking happily under the moonlit sky, the one where she ran into his outstretched arms. The happy story he had refused to release up until now, it was all fiction.

Their story, it was neither happy nor sad. Their story, it had no ending.

And it never would have one.

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><p><strong>Okay, I was crying as I wrote this, so at least anyone else who cried know they're not alone. I purposely gave the FeMC no name, so you can name her whatever you want. I usually call her Minako.<br>**

**This fic was based on a song. "Fiction" by BEAST/B2ST. Go watch the music video. Do it.**

**Anyways, here are the lyrics to the song.**

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><p>I can't forget you, I can't believe everything<br>I can't send you away

Today, I'm going to try making our story again  
>This way, it won't end<br>So I can bury the never-ending sense of loss  
>That is burying and soaking into my skin<br>I rewrite it, the beginning is happy, you and I laughing  
>The setting is inside a small room with no exit<br>That way you can't leave me

I kiss you, I can't leave your delicious side  
>We don't have an ending<p>

Again, like this I (fiction in fiction)  
>Can't forget (fiction in fiction)<br>In my heart I'm writing a story with no ending  
>I bid you goodbye (fiction in fiction)<br>I won't let you go (fiction in fiction in fiction)  
>In our never-ending story. Even today in fiction<p>

Right now, here there are only happy stories  
>Our happy story is written<br>(Different from reality) like this  
>It's getting full<p>

You run to me and hug me  
>You can never let go of me<br>We don't have an ending

Again, like this I (fiction in fiction)  
>Can't forget (fiction in fiction)<br>In my heart I'm writing a story with no ending  
>I bid you goodbye (fiction in fiction)<br>I won't let you go (fiction in fiction in fiction)  
>In our never-ending story. Even today in fiction<p>

I'll say it again  
>I believe you're still beside me<br>But it's fiction

I'm a writer who has forgotten his goal  
>How should I end this story?<br>I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you  
>I love you, just these three words<br>(Everything's fiction) Write it down  
>With the rusty pen tears,<br>On top of the stained and worn out paper  
>(Everything's fiction)<br>This story can't be sad or happy

Right now I'm writing a happy story with happy ideas  
>It doesn't really exist, but<p>

I'm happy (fiction in fiction in fiction)  
>We're together (fiction in fiction in fiction)<br>This is just the beginning  
>(Fiction in fiction in fiction)<br>There's no ending (fiction in fiction in fiction)

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><p><strong>ISN'T IT SAD? *sob*<strong>

**I don't own any of BEAST's songs either, by the way.  
><strong>


End file.
